


Onesie

by raspberrymocha



Series: Fabric, Ignis's Sanity, and Other Fraying Things [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha Gladiolus Amicitia, Alpha Ignis Scientia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Prompto Argentum, Childbirth, Like really unplanned, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Noctis Lucis Caelum, Unplanned Pregnancy, as in Noct didn’t know he was pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrymocha/pseuds/raspberrymocha
Summary: “I’m not pregnant! Tell her, Ignis!”“He’s on the pill.” Ignis offers weakly, as though that fixes everything. As though it will do anything to change the fact that Noctis is currently in labor.





	Onesie

**Author's Note:**

> This one is pretty gross, and I’m sorry. This work contains somewhat graphic depictions of childbirth, so proceed with caution.
> 
> In other news, I’m pretty sure google thinks I’m pregnant now.

Noct is no stranger to pain. He’s almost lost his life at least half a dozen times in the last week alone, and that’s not including the empire’s bi-weekly reminder that Prince Noctis is Definitely Dead. This, though, is on a totally different level.

It had started out normal enough, a dull ache in his stomach not unlike his usual Cramps with a capital “C”, except that he didn’t have a heat recently. That’s kind of part of the problem. He hasn’t had a heat for months, not since the first one he shared with Ignis. Now, it isn’t entirely unusual for him to miss heats, but this is a little ridiculous.

But, hey, he’s been under a lot of stress, and it’s said that can really fuck with your cycle. Gladio hasn’t even had a rut since leaving Insomnia, the poor bastard. So, Noctis just popped a potion when Ignis wasn’t looking, and went on his merry, monster-hunting way.

Except that lasted all of five minutes. The pain came back, even worse than before, as though angry at him for trying to get rid of it.

Now, he’s kneeling on the ground, mud seeping into his clothes from the recent rain. Gladio and Prompto are standing over him, concern clearly written on their faces (and Gladio always takes it as some sort of personal offense whenever Noct gets hurt, as though he should be able to shield him from even splinters). Ignis is the worst, though. He’s always had mother hen tendencies, and it’s only gotten worse in the time they’ve been mated (and there really is something inherently unhealthy in the almost reverent way Ignis treats him, but Noct certainly isn’t complaining).

“It’s nothing,” he tries to reassure them. “Just some… back pain.” He winces, and not just cause his stomach suddenly seizes up in pain again.

“It’s never been this bad before.” Ignis says, obviously not buying it. Curse him and his big brain.

Noctis shrugs. He absently rubs his stomach, and feels it churn for a totally different reason. He hadn’t realized until this very moment exactly how much weight he’d been gaining. Like, sure, his fatigues had been getting a little snug, and it’s not like he missed the fact that he’d been eating more (a fact driven home when he’d asked for seconds of what turned out to be a vegetable stew, much to Ignis’s bewilderment), but it hadn’t seemed this bad.

“… Has gone on long enough,” Ignis is saying.

“Yeah, dude, we’re kinda worried about you.” Prompto supplies helpfully. The traitor.

“What’s there to be worried about? See? It’s already gone. I’m fine.” He pulls himself up again, as if that proves his point.

“That isn’t the point, and you know it, Noctis Lucis Caelum!”

“Say that a little louder. I don’t think the imperials heard you yet.” Gladio grumbles.

“Look, we’re burning daylight here, and in case you haven’t noticed, there isn’t much of that left these days.” That is, actually, mildly concerning. As the so-called King of Light, Noctis should probably look into that but he’s had other things on his mind lately – namely, Ignis’s stupid perfect dick. (Which actually hasn’t been all that appealing lately, but that’s beside the point.)

Ignis sighs. He’s clearing gearing up for one of his long and distinctly unsexy rants, but Noctis is already walking away.

“Hey,” Gladio says, grabbing him by the wrist before he can get too far. “This is serious. We’re all worried, ya know. If you’re not at the top of your game, it puts us all in danger.”

“Yeah. You don’t have to pretend you’re feeling well when you’re not.” Prompto says. “Come on, lets go back to camp, and you can get some rest.”

“What Noct needs is a doctor.”

“That’s totally out of the question. We’re trying to lay low, remember? If the empire catches wind that our king is sick, it would be a disaster.” Gladio crosses his arms.

“What about what I want?”

“Hush, darling. The grownups are talking. And I’m not suggesting that we hand him over to the empire on a silver platter, but there must be someone we can trust with His Majesty’s health. We aren’t far from Caem. Cor and the others might know what to do.”

Gladio and Prompto like that idea, and Noctis find himself being dragged back to where they parked the Regalia. For all his complaining, it is actually a huge relief to sit back against the leather seats. It’s more comfortable than the muddy ground, at least. He could do without Ignis glancing at him in the rear view mirror every five seconds, though.

The drive is, at least, mercifully short. Once there, Ignis explains the situation to Cor, who at least doesn’t seem fazed by it. But then again, hardly anything fazes that man.

“It’s good you came here.” He says. “There are field medics who may have survived the Fall. I’ll get in contact with them, and let you know what I find out.”

“Thank you, Marshal.” Ignis breathes a sigh of relief.

“In the meantime, does someone want to explain to me why the hell our king has a mark on his neck?!”

* * *

The medic Cor found turns out to be a small woman named Cassia, who swears up and down that she’s still loyal to the Crown. It would be a little suspicious how much she reiterates that fact, if she weren’t so earnest about it.

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be, though.” She says, biting her lower lip. “Like I told the Marshal, I don’t have the kind of medical training a real doctor would.”

“We appreciate anything you can do.” Ignis assures her, because it’s true. In the time they’ve been waiting, Noctis’s condition has only worsened, and Ignis has nearly worn a hole in the floor from pacing restlessly. Gladio, of course, threatened to breath him senseless if he didn’t stop, but Ignis isn’t afraid of him. He knows where the Shield keeps all of his precious books, and has a few Fire flasks up his sleeve that he’s been saving for a special occasion.

“He’s in the room right here, if you will. And, of course, we appreciate your discretion on the matter.”

“Of course! I would never do anything to harm His Highness, or is it His Majesty now? Can you be king if you haven’t had a coronation?”

“A discussion for another time. Now, if you please.” Ignis gestures toward the door. He can already feel a headache coming on.

She disappears into the room, and reappears a few minutes later, looking flustered.

“So, who’s the father?” She asks.

“The… What now?” Gladio asks, because Ignis can’t. He’s staring blankly at the woman, sure that he must have misunderstood.

“Surely, you must know that King Regis is dead.”

Cassia looks at him like he’s somehow the idiot. It’s a look he’s familiar with. “Not Prince Noctis’s father. The baby’s father.”

Prompto drops the water bottle he’d been drinking out of. It bursts against the wooden floor, and water splashes against Ignis shoes. He’s barely aware of that, however.

“What baby?” He sounds nearly hysterical.

“Prince Noctis’s baby? The one he’s giving birth to? Oh, did you guys not know? I thought you were just being, like, super subtle with that whole ‘discretion’ thing.” She says the word in a horrible imitation of Ignis’s accent.

Ignis can feel the last several months recontextualizing themselves – Noct’s strange cravings, the mood swings, the weight gain (which he wasn’t going to comment on, but of course he’d noticed), the frequent bathroom breaks. All symptoms of pregnancy, and he’d used every other excuse he could think of to explain these things, except the obvious one.

“What the hell, Iggy?!” Gladio stomps over to where he’s standing. “You said you two were being safe!”

“We were!”

“Oh, are you the father?” Cassia asks. “Congratulations! But why didn’t you know about the baby…?”

Ignis ignores her. Clearly, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He pushes past her into the room, where Noctis is laying on one of the beds. He’s naked from the waist down, which Ignis has seen far too much to bat an eyelash at. (He is a little bothered by the idea that his mate undressed in front of a stranger, though.)

“Oh, thank the Draconian you’re here.” Noctis sighs. “Would you please tell her that I’m not pregnant?”

Ignis looks over his shoulder to see that Cassia entered the room behind him, and she gives him a little wave. He definitely has a headache now. Despite himself, Ignis can’t help but lean forward to try to look between Noct’s legs.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Noctis slams his legs shut, in a rare move for him.

“Trying to see if you’re dilated, obviously.”

“Well, of course, I’m not, because I’m not pregnant! Tell her, Ignis!” He jabs a finger in Cassia’s direction.

“He’s on the pill.” Ignis offers weakly, as though that fixes everything. As though Noctis isn’t showing obvious signs of labor.

“Well, actually, contraceptive pills have a very small chance of failing. Your doctor should have explained this to you when they gave the prescription.”

Noctis grumbles, settling against the pillows.

“Did you take the pills throughout your entire pregnancy?”

“I’m not pregnant!”

Cassia just leveled him with a withering look.

“… No. I thought they were making me sick, so I stopped taking them. But only after my heat!” He directs the last part to Ignis, holding up one finger to silence him.

“Okay, that’s good.”

“But you don’t understand. I can’t have a baby. I can’t” He grabs Cassia’s arm, and clutches onto it for dear life. “There’s this thing with the empire, and the gods…”

She looks down at him with something resembling pity. “It’s too late for that now. Your baby’s coming whether you’re ready for them or not.”

“We’ll… figure something out.” Ignis says, coming to stand next to his mate. He puts a comforting hand on Noct’s head and runs his fingers through his (gross, sweaty) hair. “For now, let’s just focus on getting through this.” Statistic run through his mind suddenly – mortality rates for male omegas in childbirth. And oh, gods, this is going to have to be a natural birth, isn’t it? He hopes the panic doesn’t show on his face too much.

“What’s all this ‘we’ stuff? You’re not the one who has to shove a kid out of your- oh! Oh, shit!” He seizes up suddenly, hands going to his stomach.

“Another contraction?” Ignis asks, because of course that’s what it’s been all along.

Noctis doesn’t answer, but his cries of pain speak volumes.

“I should warn you, I’ve never had to deliver a baby before.” Cassia says, moving to the foot of the bed. “But don’t you worry. We’re gonna get you through this. I am, however, going to need you to keep your legs open.” She shoves his knees apart with surprising strength.

Ignis bites down a growl, though he doesn’t know wether it’s because of her discouraging words or the fact that she is currently manhandling his mate.

“Okay, wow, you’re pretty dilated already. How long have you been in labor, exactly?”

Noctis mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “all day”. Ignis shoots him a disapproving look, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Alright. Well, you’re almost ready to start pushing. Nothing to do but wait now.”

“That’s it?” Noctis asks, sitting up to look at Cassia, disbelief written clear across his face.

“For now. Hey, does anyone want pizza?”

* * *

Like Cassia said, it doesn’t take long for Noctis to go into active labor. She also manages to get a pizza delivered all the way out here, which is probably the most impressive thing about all this.

Ignis spends the whole time smoothing down Noct’s sweaty hair, holding his hand and whispering words of encouragement. Noctis spends the whole time flinging obscenities.

“Is everything alright in here?” Prompto asks, for the dozenth time. He’d tried to make himself useful in the beginning, only to quickly become disturbed by what was happening between Noctis’s legs. Gladio has been totally absent, perhaps realizing (correctly) that Ignis would not appreciate another alpha around his mate and newborn child.

“Just peachy.” Ignis replies.

“I can see the head!” Cassia supplies.

Prompto flees the room, looking quite green.

Curiously, Ignis peeks down. Now, he knows this is the miracle of life and all that, and that what he’s looking at his firstborn (possibly only) child. But that is the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen. He’ll never look at Noct the same way again.

That aside, this is the moment where it finally hits him. That this is all real. That there’s really a baby in there, and Cassia isn’t just full of shit. He’s not sure how to feel about that. There’s wonder and worry and horror all wrapped up in one overwhelming emotion.

He doesn’t say any of that, though. “You’re nearly there, darling. Just a little more.”

Noctis nearly sobs, and pushes again. Before long, his cries are joined by those of their child (and holy shit, they have a child). They cut the umbilical cord with a dagger that Ignis pulls out of the Armiger. Then Cassia takes the squirming mass of blood and flesh and begins to walk away with it.

“Wait, where are you going?” Noctis protests weakly.

“I’m just going to get her cleaned up for you. I’ll be right back. Besides, you’ve still got the afterbirth to go through.”

“I have to do what?”

“Afterbirth. It’s when-“

“I know what the fuck an afterbirth is, Ignis!”

Naturally, it’s even more disgusting than the actual birth, with none of the emotions attached. But then it’s over, and Noctis can start to catch his breath.

“You did so well, darling. I’m very proud of you.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you’re pleased, because we are never having another one.”

Somehow, Ignis doubts that’s true, but he doesn’t comment on it. He’s saved from having to respond by Cassia’s reappearance. She’s swaddled the baby in a blanket she must have found somewhere in the house, and she hands the little bundle to Noctis.

“Here you are, Your Majesty. Your daughter.”

“I have a daughter?” Noctis’s voice breaks. His eyes are already red, and his cheeks stained with tears, but that doesn’t stop him from crying more.

“That’s right. Lucis has a little princess now.”

“Ignis, we have a daughter.” He says, shoving the bundle into Ignis’s face, as though he couldn’t see her already.

“Yes, I see that. She’s beautiful.”

And she really is, all pale pink skin and dark hair and bright green eyes.

“She’s so tiny. Is that normal?”

“Oh, yeah, totally.” Cassia says, and her tone suggests she’s only slightly bullshitting them. “Male omegas have smaller babies, and newborns are really smaller than people tend to think. Anyway, I don’t suppose you’ve thought of a name at all?”

Ignis is about to reply that of course they haven’t when Noctis speaks up.

“Her name is Regina.” He says, and his tone leaves no room for argument.

Ignis should probably get some say in his child’s name, but he doesn’t even want to argue. This is clearly something important to Noctis, to honor his father in some small way, the way he never did when the man was alive. Besides, he did all the hard work, so the least Ignis can do is let him choose the name.

(He’ll choose next time, though.)

“Regina Lucis Caelum.” Ignis tries it out, and it just sounds right.

“Hey, Prompto, come and meet your niece! And tell Gladio to bring his ass, too.”

“We really ought to watch the profanity in front of the little one.” Ignis says, but of course no one is listening.

Prompto pokes his head in, as if to confirm to that everything is, in fact, over. He breathes an audible sigh of relief, before coming to join them.

“I’m an uncle?” He asks, looking bewildered, as if he hasn’t been part of their pack – their family – for years now.

“Of course you’re an uncle.”

“Okay, wow.” There are tears shining his eyes. “Hi, there. I’m your Uncle Prompto.”

Regina doesn’t answer, obviously, but Ignis thinks that she’ll love both of her uncles. Where _is_ Gladio, anyway?

Noctis can’t seem to stop himself from touching her, holding her little hands or rubbing her mostly bald head, as though to confirm that she’s real. There’s a look of awe on his face as if to say “I made this”.

“Ignis! I just realized!” He yells, snatching up Ignis’s hand and holding it in a death grip. “We don’t have clothes or diapers or anything. What kind of parents are we?”

“The kind who didn’t know they were going to be parents?” Ignis offers, but Noctis apparently will not be consoled. He continues to sob, as if Ignis hadn’t spoken at all.

“Hormones.” Cassia mouths from over Noct’s shoulder, and he has to fight back a grimace.

“It’s okay, darling.” He says, patting Noct’s back with his free hand. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll take Prompto, and go into town and-“

“No need.” Says Gladio, who suddenly appears at the foot of the bed, where he dumps a plastic shopping bag. “I thought something like this might happen, and what kind of Shield would I be, if I left you to deal with this all alone.”

“Oh, Gladio, you’re the best!” Noctis nearly flings himself off the bed to give him a one-armed hug. Ignis tries his best not to be too bothered by it. Gladio is family, too, after all.

“Yeah, yeah.” He says, awkwardly patting Noct’s back. “Now, go lay down, would you? You need to get some rest. Let Iggy handle the kid for a little while.”

“Regina” Noctis corrects, which does give Gladio pause. “And you better hurry up and have one, too. You don’t want your new princess to go without a Shield, do you?”

Gladio eyes the room warily - the soiled sheets, the bloody towels, and the fluids still coating Noctis’s thighs. “Never in a million years.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, remember how I said this was gonna be the last one? Well, I lied. There’s going to be an epilogue. But that’s it.


End file.
